


maze

by 6pm



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6pm/pseuds/6pm
Summary: Reality stings. The loss of the dream itself tears a weeping hole in Zack’s chest, roughly where his heart ought to reside if he were feeling poetic about it, and then to add insult to injury, reality sprinkles gratuitous amounts of salt straight into the open wound.





	maze

**Author's Note:**

> for some context, this takes place in the good old AU Where Nothing Bad Ever Happened. zack and cloud are both in their late teens, 19 and 17 respectively.

Zack is quiet, he’s surprised at how content he is to lie in silence. He could stay here, drifting between various states of consciousness for the entire day, if it were required of him. All of this, for the familiar warmth of Cloud that rests beside him. 

As if sensing his thoughts, Cloud rolls from his back onto his side so as to face him. With a seemingly strenuous amount of effort on his behalf, he manages to bat open his heavily-lidded eyes. He is still; his eyes, cool and kind and untouched by mako, wander across every inch of Zack’s face, absorbing every little detail with curious precision. He regards Zack for what feels to him like a short eternity, although he doesn’t dare to interrupt, he is quite content to pose as a model for the sleepiest would-be artist in all of Gaia. Cloud’s gaze only begins to drift to a halt once he reaches Zack’s neck, his collarbones. Finally, Cloud’s lips quirk upwards - he has reached a verdict which he conveys through a single monosyllabic mumble: “hey.” 

Cloud’s smiles are small and easily missed, and Zack has learned to anticipate their arrival and welcome their short stay. It has proved to be a rewarding skill, knowing how to read Cloud. He’s not shy, per say, he simply prefers to express himself subtly. Cloud has never once articulated verbal concern for Zack’s health, but after an arduous mission, he will bring him a heat pack and offer to rub out any knots in his muscles. It’s just how Cloud is, and Zack has grown to love that about him.

Cloud looks warm, and the heat emanating from him would suggest the same. Now that Zack notices it, Cloud is snugly wrapped inside one of his old hoodies that was borrowed with entirely false promises of a swift return. It’s purple, the official Second Class shade of violet to be more precise, and Zack can’t fault him for keeping it. There’s no other word for it, Cloud looks cute. He’s on the verge of being absorbed by a hoodie that’s at least two sizes too big for him, and it still suits Cloud far more than it ever did himself. 

Zack, on the other hand, isn’t wearing so much as a t-shirt; strange, that he doesn’t remember taking anything off. It seems like something that he would recall, especially while in the company of Cloud.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t know why Cloud is wearing his clothes, why he’s partially _unclothed_ , or why they’ve been dozing off together on a couch that doesn’t feel familiar in the slightest. Stranger yet, it doesn’t matter. For some reason that he can’t quite lay a finger on, none of those things matter in the slightest. All that he cares about, or all that even seems to bear any relevance is Cloud. The light pressure of Cloud’s arm around his waist and tentative touch of fingertips against the small of his back, the softness and warmth of his skin against Zack’s own, the sheer closeness of him. Cloud. Something about the situation resonates with him on a level that’s almost too deep to perceive. It just feels _right_ in a sense that’s difficult to lay a finger on. This is how it’s supposed to be. Or rather, how it should be - how he _wants_ it to be. It’s as if the entire gravity of their surroundings revolves around Cloud and pulls Zack closer with each passing moment. 

The acute awareness. That’s when it happens, and that’s what prompts it. 

Zack wakes up.

He isn’t on a couch, and Cloud isn’t beside him. He’s alone in a bed that suddenly feels too big for just one person to inhabit with a pillow clutched against his chest.

Reality stings. The loss of the dream itself tears a weeping hole in Zack’s chest, roughly where his heart ought to reside if he were feeling poetic about it, and then to add insult to injury, reality sprinkles gratuitous amounts of salt straight into the open wound. For a brief moment, Zack feels as though he might cry. He clenches his jaw and silently talks himself out of it; tears would be an overreaction to something that shouldn’t have upset him in the first place.

He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about Cloud as anything other than a close friend - close in the emotional understanding of the term, certainly not the physical one, he thinks, in a hasty attempt to correct his thoughts. 

Zack wants to return to sleep, although he could live without revisiting that same particular realm. He’s tired, and now he’s on the verge of stress - something that he can barely cope with when he’s well-rested. He closes his eyes, and focuses on the darkness and the rhythm of his own breathing. He remains calm, unexpectedly so, and almost manages to fall back asleep. Until his alarm goes off, that is. It wails at him; he rolls over with his hand almost curled into a fist, and hits the top of the clock. He may have broken it, but he doesn’t care - not right now anyway, he might regret it later.

Frustrated, Zack throws his pillow away from him; it falls onto the floor with a sad ‘poof’. He stares at the ceiling and sighs until his lungs begin to ache.

* * *

He has breakfast with Kunsel at nine, even on weekends. Zack doesn’t enjoy eating on his own, he had experienced his fair share of solitary meals during his first year in Shinra; there’s an underlying sense of isolation that tends to accompany even the thought of sitting on his own. He would have made a habit out of meeting Cloud, too, if he didn’t skip breakfast. Cloud’s eating patterns and their subsequent effects bother Zack immensely, but it has proven to be a difficult subject to approach. He will lose a visible amount of weight rather quickly, and then take months to regain it. Zack does his best to help Cloud work through it, and the moral support might be proving fruitful in some small way: in recent months, Cloud will often admit to feeling hungry, and he spends substantially less time exercising. Baby steps, Zack thinks. He might even manage to persuade Cloud to enjoy a decently portioned meal before the year is out.

The hallways of the Shinra Building are quiet, too quiet for Zack’s tastes. The only audible sounds in his vicinity are the his footsteps and his thoughts, which seem to resonate through his head in a kind of awful harmony. He tries to think about something else, anything at all, just to redirect his thoughts away from Cloud, that dream, - but of course, it’s a fruitless endeavour. The more effort that Zack puts into clearing his head, the more his mind seems to revel in working against him and instead filling his head with images from his dream that begin to feel like memories the more times they repeat themselves. 

Zack runs a hand down along his face and whines; he doesn’t know why he’s fixating on this. It’s not like he hasn’t had cheesy dreams before, he’s just that type of guy - he had multiple dreams that featured Aerith, a few details from which he can still safely recall without a gut-wrenching sensation manifesting within the depths of his stomach. The two relationships are opposites in several respects, if Zack views them from his own hopelessly romantic pretences. He developed a crush on Aerith almost immediately, they dated first and became friends later, and she was exceptionally obvious about reciprocating his feelings. Cloud, of course, is her antithesis in this particular line of comparison. 

Arriving at his destination, Zack forces his thoughts back into the present moment. He can’t allow himself to dwell on something as silly as a dream… at least not until he’s had breakfast and can return to wrack his brain within the confines of his own room. He takes a deep breath as he enters the mess hall. He doesn’t experience anxiety often, and it’s a feeling that he wants to rid himself of as soon as humanly possible, or as SOLDIER-ly as possible, as the case may be.

Zack scans the canteen and finds Kunsel already seated, waiting for him. Kunsel waves him over and Zack salutes him with two fingers as he takes a detour to the food counter. He fills his plate, helping himself to extra slices of toast. Balancing a generous amount of food on one hand and carrying what is supposedly a freshly squeezed glass of juice in the other, he makes his way over to Kunsel. It’s a delicate art, and one that he’s beginning to master - he has yet to face the embarrassment of spilling the morning’s generous spoils across the floor of the canteen.

“Hey,” Kunsel says around a mug of coffee. It certainly smells inviting, and Zack would drink coffee himself if it didn’t have the ironically exhausting effect of keeping him awake all night.

Zack nods back at him, and sets his breakfast down on the table. Although he isn’t exactly hungry, he tucks into his meal. He doesn’t bother to make smalltalk - he’s not in the mood and he can’t think of anything to say, his mind is still decidedly fixed upon the thought of Cloud. 

Kunsel finishes his drink. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, man. I passed out as soon as I got back from the gym last night.”

Kunsel frowns, but refrains from making a comment.

“Want one?” Zack pokes at one of the eggs on his plate. His eyes had been far bigger than stomach, especially when combined with the dread that his dream has planted within it; he can’t tell if he’s already full or just nauseous. 

Kunsel studies the egg suspiciously, and then subjects Zack to the same treatment. “You feeling alright, Zack?”

“I’m good, just tired.”

“Didn’t you sleep for, like, ten hours? Eleven?”

Zack silently curses himself. “Yeah, sorry. Bad dreams, man, that’s all.”

“Oh yeah?” Kunsel props himself up onto his elbows and gently leans across the table. “I get pretty crazy dreams after intense missions. If it’s bothering you, you can talk to me about it. Judgement free service, right here! Not like those shrinks on the health floors.”

Zack laughs lightly. “Nah, it wasn’t like that.” Come to think of it, Zack hasn’t had that particular flavour of bad dream in quite a while, and he sincerely hopes that he hasn’t just jinxed himself.

“So…?” Kunsel stares at him, his brows thoroughly beginning to furrow. “What was it? Oh… wait. Hold on. It was some kind of weird sex dream?!” he says, hushing his voice in equally frenzied and enthralled horror.

“What? No!” he holds Kunsel’s unconvinced gaze and monotonously reaffirms, “No, man. just… no.”

“Alright, well, you can’t leave me in suspense like this, Zack, I’ve gotta know.”

A part of Zack desperately wishes to discuss it and pour his heart out to someone, anyone, but a problem arises in that he doesn’t actually want to share the details of his dream. It’s a dilemma, and a likely unrealistic one at that, given that he can barely hold water. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he mumbles.

Kunsel sighs disappointedly - he isn’t one to push. “Fine, but why was it bad?”

Zack sincerely considers the question for a moment, and realises that he doesn’t know the answer to it. “I… don’t know,” he admits. “It was confusing, more than anything, I guess.”

“In what way?” Kunsel asks, already embracing his role of the doctor. Doctor Kunsel. To be fair, it doesn’t sound half bad.

Zack sets his mild annoyance aside. He can take it out on Kunsel during their next sparring session; for now, he’ll play along, seeing the potential benefit in being posed questions that he hasn’t considered himself. “In the dream,” he makes sure to clarify, “I had some feelings that I’m not sure if I actually have. They felt real, but I don’t know, man.” He shrugs, and takes a sip of his orange juice. 

“Feelings? Like, romantic ones?”

“Yeah.”

“For someone you know?”

Zack raises his glass in the most defeated toast that he will ever give. “Bingo.”

Kunsel covers his mouth and laughs, it’s entirely self-satisfied and could almost be classified as a giggle. “I knew it! I knew it.”

“You knew what?” Zack asks defensively. “You didn’t know anything, man, that’s why you were asking questions.”

Kunsel holds in another bout of laughter, and takes a deep breath before he says, “I knew that you liked Cloud.”

Zack opens his mouth to provide a witty rebuttal; nothing emerges from him, and he acknowledges it was a high hope given that he’s never said anything witty or clever on the spot in all his years at Shinra. Instead, he remains guardedly still and sets his jaw. Zack feels as though he’s been laid out and stripped bare, despite the fact that he was a completely willing participant in Kunsel’s game. Just this once, he hates how well Kunsel has come to know him.

“So?” Kunsel says expectantly. “Am I wrong?”

Horribly exposed as he is, Zack can’t seem to find an easy route on which to turn back now. Somewhat defeated, he sighs. “No. It’s about Cloud, or... I mean, it _was_ about him. The dream.”

“I knew it! You’re so into him.”

Zack throws him a dirty look; Kunsel grins back in return. “We’re just friends, man…” he mutters. His voice trails off and betrays his stern facade; Zack can rarely remain angry with people, even for the briefest periods of time, friends especially so. Besides, he isn’t angry, he’s just frustrated with everything and everyone around him, himself included.

“Sure,” Kunsel says, drawing out the word for dramatic and irritating effect. “You’re just friends, that’s why you can’t keep your hands off him whenever he’s around, and why you’re constantly texting the guy when he isn’t around.”

As if to prove him wrong out of spite, Zack retrieves his phone from his pocket; he hasn’t checked it since yesterday, so how could he have been texting Cloud? Kunsel reaches across the table to press a button and as soon as the screen illuminates, he lets out another triumphant laugh. ‘2 UNREAD MESSAGES FROM CLOUD,’ the phone states in a moment of grim betrayal.

“Zack likes Cloud,” Kunsel teases.

“Keep it down,” Zack says through gritted teeth. He doesn’t understand why this is bothering him to such an unjustifiable extent.

“What, you’re not going to deny it?”

Zack shrugs, and finds that his shoulders are almost painfully tense. “I don’t know if I _can_ deny it, man, why else would I dream about him like that?”

Kunsel mirrors his feigned apathy. He slouches down into his chair, “maybe he was just on your mind since you two were talking last night.” He tilts his head towards the phone, and smiles. “I doubt it was as simple as that, though. I know you too well to believe that. You enjoyed it, right? The dream.”

Zack nods quickly. When he speaks, his voice is low and as close to sounding shy as he is ever likely to get: “I wish I never woke up. I could’ve stayed inside that dream forever, man. With Cloud, like that. With him in that way.”

Kunsel is silent for a moment. He exhales heavily, as though he were sharing a portion of the burden that Zack has placed upon himself. “Whoa, Zack.”

“Yeah.”

“That sounds pretty real.”

“Maybe because it is.” He shrugs again, “but I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about him that way until now.” Absently, he pushes his food - which is ultimately destined to remain uneaten - around his plate. “What should I do, man? I can’t stop thinking about him-- about the dream.”

Adopting the role of the unsolicited therapist once again, Kunsel knits his fingers together and gazes hard at Zack. “For starters, stressing about it is only going to make it worse. Second, I guess you’ll have to find out if you actually have a crush on Cloud. I’ll save you some time on that one: you do, and you have for months.”

Zack scoffs. “Come on, man, how could I not notice my own feelings for someone?”

“I don’t know, you could’ve been ignoring it because Cloud’s your friend. Or because he’s a guy. Or both, maybe? You’ve never dated a guy before, right?”

“Just Aerith,” he mumbles. “I don’t have any time for dating!”

“You obviously have time to think about it, though,” Kunsel says, smirking and knowing full well that he’s pushing his luck. “All I meant was, you’ve never dated a guy before. It’s different. You know anyone else who’s into guys? I mean, I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re going through, Zack, so it might not be a bad idea to talk about with someone who actually does.”

Zack nods, sincerely considering it. He drinks the last of his juice before he supplies an impatient and expectant Kunsel with a response. “That’s the first helpful thing you’ve said all morning,” he says.

“For real?” Kunsel asks; his own surprise isn’t exactly reassuring, but Zack still thinks that his advice is worth contemplating.

Zack takes his phone and rises from his seat.

“You’re going already? Wait, do you know a guy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Who?”

“Does it matter?” Zack says. “But listen, thanks man. I owe you one! Catch you later.”

He leaves the canteen, and Kunsel, with perhaps more questions raised than answers will ever be provided for them. At this point in their friendship, Zack is fully aware that his train of thought operates significantly faster than that of Kunsel and abruptly changes direction twice as quickly. If he were to attempt to be a good conversationalist, he would stay and provide further discussion and explanation to the likely bewildered Kunsel that he has left behind him but truth be told - Zack neither has the will nor the patience for such a task. He can make it up to him later, with a fragmented recollection of where his current objective might lead him.

As he lopes through the hallways of the Shinra Building, Zack turns his phone around in his hand. He still hasn’t read the messages that Cloud had sent him the previous evening, the first of which was a response to something Zack had said after leaving the gym (of course, he hasn’t the slightest idea what that comment might have been).

_sounds rough lol good thing i took up running instead. how much can u bench?_

Then, fifteen minutes later it was followed by:

_nvm good nite_

* * *

Zack doesn’t know whether to knock on the door or ring the bell. Knocking feels too sudden and intrusive, whereas using the bell is a little too formal. He settles for knocking; at least this way if Angeal is still asleep, Zack won’t run the risk of waking him up. He raps his knuckles against the dark wood, and the door springs open no less than a few moments later.

Angeal appears in front of him, startled and weary, as if he were still in the process of waking up. “Zack?”

“None other!” Zack says loudly (although to his own credit, he doesn’t realise this until after the fact, and after Angeal has winced). The longer he holds eye contact with Angeal, the more he finds himself resisting the urge to yawn. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

Angeal rubs one of his eyes as he reassures Zack: “No, definitely not. But what are you doing over here so early, is everything alright?” There’s a hint of worry in his voice, but it’s mostly muffled by his sheer drowsiness.

“A twenty minute walk never hurt anyone - fresh air is good! - well, it’s a ten minute run, so less air for me, I guess.”

Angeal almost laughs at him; he would have laughed for real if he were more awake, and Zack can’t help but briefly mourn the missed opportunity. “What’s the matter, Zack?”

He clicks his tongue impatiently. “Nothing’s the matter!” he says a little too defensively, and quickly attempts to change his tone. “I’m good, it’s all good, man. Can’t a guy pay his friend a visit? I mean, what’s with the third-degree?”

“Never-mind, then,” Angeal says, narrowing his eyes as he searches Zack’s face for some kind of tell. “I haven’t even been upright for ten minutes and I could use coffee, but I don’t need to caffeine to know that you’re acting weird, get in here.”

He ushers Zack inside, and guides him towards the back of his apartment into the kitchen. He opens the shades and light pours into the room while he squints and groans as he half-heartedly makes his way to the refrigerator. Zack simply stands and watches him for a moment, before resigning himself to a stool at the bar. He keeps an inquisitive eye on Angeal as he prepares to cook what Zack assumes will soon become pancakes. He’s no chef but pancakes are one of the few meals that he has successfully treated himself to, and he recognises the simple procedure.

Angeal cooks - largely unaware of, or just choosing to ignore Zack’s presence for several minutes, although it feels more like a small eternity. Eventually, he breaks the silence, probably after he had accepted the fact that Zack wouldn’t be the one to do it. “Care to enlighten me as to why you’re in my apartment, unannounced, at,” he glances at a clock on the wall, “ten A.M. on a Saturday?”

Zack is more nervous than he realises, and narrowly avoids stumbling over his few words, “I know you like your time off, man, but this is important.”

“It better be,” Angeal says lowly. He turns and grins at Zack to take the edge off of his tone; all bark and no bite. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or should we play twenty questions and hope that my intuition hits the mark?”

Zack laughs, in spite of himself. “Well, we can be real with each other, right?”

“Correct me if i’m wrong, but I was under the impression that we always are,” Angeal says.

“You’re not wrong, man, I guess I just wanted to make sure,” Zack mumbles.

Another bout of silence descends upon them and passes at a frustratingly measured pace. Angeal doesn’t push him to continue speaking, and once he’s finished cooking, he slides a plate of pancakes across the bar. “Honey?”

“Angeal if I ever say ‘no’ to honey you have full permission to terminate me or whatever, man, because that guy’s a clone or something. And not even a good one.”

Angeal gives him a weary look, and for a brief moment, he appears as though he is too drained to even grace Zack with a response. “Is ‘yes, please’ really so difficult?”

“I’m just saying! Better safe than sorry.”

“And I’m just saying eat your breakfast. Anyway, we don’t have much to worry about. I doubt that even a good Zack clone would prove to be much of a threat.”

“Ha ha,” Zack monotones dramatically. “You think you’re so funny, man.”

“No, I don’t think I’m funny, but I _know_ that I’m witty, and there’s a difference,” he supplies, with a wry smile.

Zack scoffs; he couldn’t distinguish the two words from each other if he tried, and Angeal probably knows it. He is also definitely aware that Zack is too stubborn to ask him to differentiate. “Whatever, man,” he concedes.

Angeal retrieves the honey and wastes no time in smothering Zack’s pancakes beneath a thick layer of sugary goodness. He can feel Angeal’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t return the gaze, instead keeping his stare fixed upon his plate.

“Are you feeling alright?” Angeal asks. There is an Angeal-specific poorly concealed undertone of worry in his voice, and he doesn’t hear it often but when he does, Zack can’t bear it. 

“I’m good.”

“You sure about that?” Angeal pries.

“I’m fine, man.”

“Zack.” 

Zack shrugs. Obstinate, he keeps his head bowed.

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you just showed up here unannounced and in a bad mood. Come on, Zack, we’re too old for this charade. We’re both adults here, even though some of us might not know how to act like one yet. What’s on your mind? You came here to talk about something that’s bothering you, right?”

Zack sighs. “Am I transparent, or something? For real?”

Angeal laughs under his breath. “More like translucent.” He pauses, “you were already talking to someone?”

“A little,” Zack admits. “But nobody’s a better listener than you. And you just _get_ me, man. I figured you’d be more helpful.”

“Kunsel?” Angeal asks.

Zack laughs. “Yeah.”

“Why come to me instead of Cloud? You’re practically joined at the hip as it is.”

“Uh,” Zack falters. He pushes his pancakes away from him; he can’t bring himself to stomach even the sight of food as long as he continues to worry. He slumps forward and rests his chin on the heel of his palm. “Because Cloud’s the problem.”

“Oh?” Angeal’s concern sounds as though it’s beginning to elevate again. “You had an argument?”

“What? No way,” Zack finds himself slightly offended at the idea of it. “Nothing like that, man. We don’t fight with each other.”

Angeal circles the bar and pulls out a stool from beside Zack. He leaves a comfortable space between the two of them and focuses his attention on his own breakfast rather than on Zack. It was a deliberate move on his behalf, and Zack silently thanks him for it. Everything is effortless with Angeal, from his deft movements around the kitchen space to the comfort that his humble company invokes in Zack - quite the opposite of the interrogation that Kunsel’s questioning bordered upon. “You can talk to me about it, if you like,” Angeal says. “I’ll listen; I hear I’m good at that.”

“The best,” Zack assures him. “But I don’t know how to do this at all. I know I need to get it off my chest - it’s driving me crazy, man - but I have no idea where to start.”

Angeal delicately cuts up his pancake and savours a small piece before replying. “Take your time,” he says. “I’m here for as long as you need me to be, and whatever this is, I’ll help you through it. Sound good?”

Zack almost laughs. “You always make everything seem so easy.”

Angeal echoes Zack’s breathy huff, “save that thought for after you tell me about what’s bothering you.”

Zack sighs deeply, “alright, man, I’ll be straight with you.” He can’t help but grin at the unintentional irony of the statement. “Uh, remember when I told you I was into girls _and_ guys?”

Angeal considers his words for a beat, then says, “I recall a version where you looked almost as stressed as you do right now because you thought you had to choose between the two options. You confided in me for nearly an hour all about how you had too much love to give and you were afraid to restrict yourself.” Zack can hear the smile in Angeal’s voice - of course his tone is laced with fondness - but in his current mood, Zack fails to share his sentiment.

“Give me a break, Angeal,” he mumbles.

“Alright,” Angeal says. “So, you’re feeling different about it now?”

“No, not at all. I stand by not being able to imagine myself just batting for the one team,” he says with a short laugh.

Angeal nudges Zack with his elbow while he manoeuvres his knife with delicate precision. “Good to hear.”

“It’s just, uh. You’re still into guys, right?” Zack asks.

“Yes,” Angeal says plainly. “It’s not something that tends to change.”

Zack shrugs, “I just wanted to make sure before we get into this; I don’t know how it works, I mean, I’m not gay like you are.”

Angeal turns to look at him, and his expression is thoroughly world-weary. “Think before you speak, Zack.”

“Yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it,” Zack mumbles. “Sorry, man.”

“You like another boy?” Angeal suggests.

“I think so,” Zack admits hastily. It feels good to say it out loud, it’s as if he’s lightening the load that he woke up with balanced atop his shoulders and sharing its weight between himself and Angeal. “But it’s complicated. He’s my friend, and I don’t know if he feels the same way.”

Zack finally works up the nerve to look Angeal in the eye. His gaze is comforting as ever, and the lines that are beginning to form around his eyes aid him in further conveying the gentle aura that has become synonymous with his presence. “Believe it or not, I know exactly what that feels like,” he says softly.

“For real?” Zack asks quickly. In his relief, he finally forces himself back into a proper posture and turns to face Angeal. “What do I do?”

The corner of Angeal’s lip quirks upwards but it doesn’t evolve into a smile, not completely. “It’s a simpler answer than you want to hear, and advice that’s more difficult to act upon than you can imagine until you actually try to do it.”

Zack whines aloud out of sheer frustration. “C’mon, man, just tell me already! Whatever you say, I’ll do it.”

“That would be a first,” Angeal says. He chuckles smugly, mostly to himself rather than directing it towards Zack in any capacity. He sets his cutlery down, “you either keep it to yourself and try to get on with your life - which doesn’t seem to be a viable option, given that you’re sweating and you haven’t stopped fidgeting since you sat down - or you talk about it.”

“Easy for you to say! Besides, I _am_ talking about it, that’s the whole reason why I came here.”

Angeal raises an eyebrow. “Not to me, to Cloud. Or at least, I’m assuming that’s how he factors into this.”

Zack swallows, and his throat feels sore and is more parched than he had realised. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, man.”

“It’s a well-advised suggestion, not an order. It’s a Saturday.”

Zack opens his mouth and is hastily forming a rebuttal, a stubborn and indirect plea for further instruction, when the kitchen door slides open behind them.

Zack glances over his shoulder to find an unexpected but entirely familiar figure slinking into the room. Genesis, hair damp and dressed only in a bathrobe, holds his stare for but a fraction of a moment before furrowing his brow and averting his gaze. 

Genesis retrieves a portion of pancakes, and in retrospect, the seemingly excessive amount of food that Angeal had prepared suddenly makes a lot of sense: he was cooking for two. Zack turns to look at Angeal, who does nothing but return his own presumably startled expression. In contrast to Genesis, however, Angeal appears willing to mirror Zack’s wide-eyed stare for as long as is required of him. 

At a loss for words, but compensated with an array of answers to questions that he had never asked, Zack is drawn back to Genesis. His presence is overbearing in such a manner that Zack finds difficult to pinpoint. It’s the silence, he thinks; Genesis hasn’t so much as uttered a single word and his bare footsteps leave no sound in their wake. He catches Zack’s lingering eyes and decides to be the one to break the quietness. “Fair,” he says simply, and with a courteous nod, he leaves it at that. There’s nothing more to say. His casual appearance accompanied by Angeal’s silence speaks for itself. 

Genesis balances his plate on his palm, and lightly touches Angeal’s arm with his free hand as he passes him by. He runs his fingers up along Angeal’s bare skin, and there’s visible fondness behind his touch that persists even after his hand has come to rest on his shoulder. 

Angeal doesn’t react, or even meet his gaze, but instead chooses to let his hand rest over that of Genesis. Despite the simplicity of the gesture, Genesis smiles at him so genuinely that it exposes a flicker of pearly white teeth which is a rare sight from the man in itself. Zack watches their hands, and Genesis’ sheer reluctance to withdraw himself from Angeal’s touch. His fingers dither and weave themselves around Angeal’s before he manages to pull himself away. His movements are so natural that Zack can only wonder as to how long this arrangement has been in place.

Genesis leaves just as quietly as he had arrived and as soon as he closes the door, Zack faces Angeal with a rapidly widening grin that seems to put him further on edge. 

Angeal clears his throat. “You were saying, Zack?”

“Angeal!” Zack almost laughs, howls really, at the ridiculousness of it. “No way are you gonna pretend that didn’t just happen!”

Angeal sighs heavily. “We were talking about you, Zack, not me. Don’t change the subject.”

“C’mon, man! How can I not change the subject when you’re-- you’re dating Genesis?!”

“Zack,” he says gently. “Volume, please.”

Zack nods.

“Look, I was going to tell you,” Angeal continues. “There was never a right time.” He takes a short breath, and shrugs. “But if it makes you feel any better, you were the first person I wanted to tell, I mean, you’re the annoying little brother I never asked for, after all. I only kept it from you because I didn’t know how to bring it up, or how to actually speak about it, or a bit of both, actually.”

Zack pauses as he considers Angeal’s words, and then he can’t help but smile so wide that Angeal laughs at him in return. “Don’t sweat it, but, man, if you didn’t look so tense that you could probably snap in half, I’d hug you right now.”

Angeal laughs again, although it’s more of a light chuckle than anything else. “Go ahead. I’ll try my best to stay in one piece,” he says.

As soon as the words leave Angeal’s mouth, Zack is wrapping his arms his neck as best as he can from their seated positions. Angeal puts a single arm around Zack’s back in return. “You know the feeling is mutual, right, Angeal? I don’t know what it’s like to have a brother but I’ve always thought of you as, like, the closest thing.”

Angeal barks a laugh and it’s loud in Zack’s ear. “I gathered that. You aren’t exactly shy, you introduced me to your parents as your ‘long-lost uncle’.”

“Unlike someone else I know!” Zack says. He squeezes Angeal tightly before releasing his grip and settling back down into his seat. “Congrats, man, I mean it. So, how long have you guys been a thing?”

“A while. A few months, officially,” he says cautiously. “Some things… happened, before we decided to get serious. It’s not like I’ve dated that many people, but this was especially difficult for the both of us because we were both terrified, I think, of doing irreparable damage in the sense that we’ve been inseparable since we first met.” He smiles, and it’s the smallest quirk of his lips as if he’s trying to keep it to himself, “but in retrospect, it’s a risk that I’m glad we took.”

“Did you always like him?” Zack pries, the hopeless romantic part of himself beginning to act up.

Angeal stifles a laugh, “no, but don’t tell him that. In all seriousness, it’s a relatively recent development for me. For Genesis, not so much. I had no idea, really. Well… he can be incredibly obvious when it suits him, so it was probably more a case of me not _wanting_ to have any idea.”

“I get it, man. And not just in a sympathetic way, I can, like, empathise. The whole nine yards.”

Angeal gives him a look that’s caught between heartache and fondness. “I believe that, and I’m guessing your friendship with Cloud is more important to you than any potential shared feelings.”

“Bingo,” Zack says spiritlessly. “On the flip side, I don’t even know if these feelings are real, I mean, I only noticed them this morning.”

“Trust me, Zack, just because you only realised you were feeling things recently, doesn’t mean there wasn’t always something there. It had to come from something, right? Sure, it might be nothing, but feelings that are strong enough to scare you don’t usually come about unprovoked.” He meets Zack’s eyes, and purses his lips.

“I guess,” Zack agrees; it makes sense, although he wishes that it didn’t. “It’s just that I tell Cloud everything, man, we trust each other - you need someone you can lean on when you do what we do. He knows when something’s bothering me, and I don’t want him to think I’m keeping things from him. It’d hurt him, or at least, it’d sure hurt me if it was the other way around.” Zack laughs at himself, flustered and riddled with anxiety. “So there’s the possibility of messing things up with him in different ways if I choose to talk about it with him _and_ if I keep it to myself. I don’t know what to do, man.”

“I understand that, but I’m not making any decisions for you.”

Zack slouches across the counter and sighs dramatically.

Angeal puts a hand on Zack’s shoulder; he rubs around his shoulder blade in a rough circular motion, and it feels nice. It’s a distinctly Angeal form of comfort, the silent but physical reassurance. “If it’s any help, we both already know what you’re going to do,” he says.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. When was the last time you made a choice that wasn’t based on your feelings, or you made a decision but then your emotions got the better of you?”

Zack scoffs. Of course Angeal is right - he always is - but he isn’t just going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it aloud. “You don’t know that, I was gonna go over to Cloud’s dorm and make up my mind along the way.”

“Right,” Angeal says. “And you’d let your feelings make up your mind for you. That’s just the way you are - always have been. It’s not a bad thing, it’s one of your best qualities.”

“Come on, man, you can’t tell me I’m predictable and then say it’s a good thing!”

“Well, you’re also a bad listener while we’re at it, because that’s not what I’m saying.”

Zack rolls his shoulder blade underneath Angeal’s hand as some small sort of protest. He sits up and hops down from his chair onto his feet. “I can’t sit here all day, as much as I’d like to. I’m gonna take off and deal with this, somehow,” he says.

“I don’t think you’ll need it, but good luck,” Angeal says. 

“Thanks, man. I mean it.”

“I don’t have any plans, by the way, so I’ll be here all day,” he adds. “Just… if you need me, you know? In case.”

Zack nods, and narrowly resists the urge to hug Angeal again. “Tell Genesis I said ‘hi’.”

Angeal smiles, “will do.”

* * *

_Just because you’re only noticing your feelings now doesn’t mean that there wasn’t always something there._ That particular thought decides to rest at the front of Zack’s mind, he can’t seem to stop thinking about it; the idea of it simply resonates with him on the most profound level that exists within his being, which to be honest with himself, probably isn’t very deep.

He hasn’t been actively infatuated with Cloud - they’re friends, and that takes precedence over all else, as far as Zack’s concerned - but it’s also not like he has never considered it, never viewed Cloud in that way, however briefly. The parameters for Zack’s ‘type’ are pretty broad, but in theory, Cloud would certainly fit the bill. He’s soft-spoken in such a way that it calms Zack to listen to him speak, no matter the subject; he laughs at Zack’s jokes and remarks that he doesn’t realise are funny until Cloud finds the humour in them, and he’s thoughtful in a quiet and attentive sort of way that makes up for Zack’s lack thereof. Nearly as important, however, is the fact that Cloud is significantly shorter than him. It’s not that Zack’s ego would have trouble being with a person taller than him, rather that he enjoys the height difference between them which becomes especially apparent when they hug or fall asleep beside each other, against each other, lazily on top of each other. Their bodies slot together in such a way that it feels as though they must be two pieces of a whole, or maybe that’s just Zack’s romanticism. 

Cloud is handsome, too, but not in an obvious way. It’s an effortless sort of good-looking that Zack envies and admires all at once. Whereas Zack usually devotes a portion of his morning to fine-tuning his appearance, Cloud will roll straight out of bed and look just as respectable as him, no adjustments required. There’s a certain charm to that in itself, Zack has to admit. 

He humours himself for a few moments more: in theory, if he were to date Cloud, things wouldn’t be all that different. It has been brought to his attention on more than one occasion, namely instances where he overheard or was directly asked if there was something going on between himself and Cloud. He laughed it off and swiftly denied the question each time, of course, but Zack never took the rumours to heart for the sheer fact that the idea of being perceived as Cloud’s boyfriend didn’t bother him in the slightest. (This awakening, for lack of a better term, really was long overdue, he thinks.) They never discussed it between themselves - even jokingly - but Zack has learned to read Cloud well enough to know that the talk didn’t concern him either. They’re close in every sense of the term, closer than Zack is with any of his other friends, so the rumours weren’t exactly unfounded. 

He has meandered halfway down the stairwell of Angeal’s building before he comes to the realisation that he ought to text Cloud before he heads back towards Sector Zero. He can’t allow his stress to forcibly pardon common courtesy twice in one day.

He texts Cloud, _rise and shine haha are you awake man?_

By the time Zack reaches the bottom of the stairs, Cloud has replied. _ur coming over? just woke up… give me 10!_

_no sweat! be there in 20._

* * *

Being a valued infantryman has its few perks, the most significant of which Cloud is afforded is the small luxury of having a room to call his own. New recruits are forced to bunk in a more communal, and supposedly larger dormitory, although it’s surprising how quickly space can disappear when six boys are stuffed into a room together with minimal supervision. In retrospect, Zack should probably be more thankful for how swiftly he managed to progress up through the ranks.

Zack isn’t in any kind of hurry to return and face whatever fate has in store for him within the Shinra Building but between his already elevated heart rate and the monotony of climbing seemingly endless flights of stairs up to Cloud’s floor, it feels as though his heart might just spontaneously decide to burst out of his chest. He doesn’t even consider taking the elevator; that’s for scientists, Turks, and people who aren’t hopelessly trying to avoid their destination.

By the time that Zack arrives at Cloud’s place, he’s worked up a sweat, not from the hint of exercise but from the absolute panic that’s relentlessly coursing through him. He paces up and down along the hall, unable to raise his hand towards the door, although in his own defence, he does try. Force of will doesn’t accomplish much in this situation; he’s physically unable to raise his hand high enough to knock on the metallic surface. 

He grows frustrated, more at his lack of self-discipline than anything else, but any kind of potential outburst is cut short when one of Cloud’s roommates steps out from the dormitory and narrowly avoids walking straight into Zack’s chest. 

“Sorry, man,” Zack mumbles.

“Um, hey, Zack. Cloud’s inside,” he says. He stares at Zack for a tense moment, but leaves the door open behind him.

Zack stands around idly and uselessly for several seconds until he manages to speak, “Cloud!” he calls. “You awake, man?” Zack runs his hand across his brow; he doesn’t understand why he’s still sweating but he desperately wishes that it would stop, or that it at least isn’t visibly obvious.

“Hey!” Cloud shouts back. He’s all smiles when he comes to greet Zack; he’s dressed in a white t-shirt and pale jeans, and he would be the physical embodiment of the word ‘fresh’ if it weren’t for the dark circles underneath his eyes.

“Late night?” Zack asks. He feels a sudden and very sharp ache within his stomach that doesn’t immediately register with him as guilt. He should have given Cloud a few more hours, seeing as his text is likely what woke him up in the first place. 

Cloud shrugs sheepishly, “studying.”

Zack whistles lowly, and it doesn’t sound nearly as appreciative as it did in his head. “I don’t know a single person who has even half of your work ethic, man.”

“Yeah, well,” Cloud scratches the back of his head, almost nervously, “I’ve gotta make SOLDIER. It’s what I came here to do and I’m gonna get there eventually, however long it takes.”

“C’mon, you must have memorised every piece of theory there is to learn by now! You’re good! And as for the physical side of things?” Zack pokes the centre of Cloud’s chest, “it’s what’s in here that counts! You have what it takes, man, I mean, you’ve got enough heart to give away.”

Cloud averts his gaze and looks downwards in a poorly executed attempt at hiding a small smile. 

Cloud’s moments of shyness have a greater effect on Zack than he had realised; despite his newfound self-awareness, he’s grinning widely and playfully nudging Cloud by the arm before he can give his actions so much as a second thought.

“Actually,” Cloud says. “There’s one question that I can’t find the answer to anywhere but I figured you’d know it. Could you take a look?”

“No need to ask twice! Show me,” Zack says.

Cloud turns on his heel and tilts his head, motioning for Zack to follow him. This time, he doesn’t even need to verbalise it; Zack finds himself following Cloud as soon as he begins to move away. 

Cloud’s room is modest, to say the least. Infantrymen and Third Class SOLDIERS alike are given box rooms inside which little more furniture than a bed, desk, and small wardrobe can fit. He seems to love the comparative privacy though, and has never once complained about his living situation. The sparse area that is left on his bedroom walls is decorated with posters, mostly of chocobo jockeys, but there is a single and exceptionally intimidating one of Sephiroth that keeps a watchful eye over the space. Zack always does his best to refrain from looking directly at it.

Cloud pulls out a chair from beneath his desk and gestures for Zack to take a seat, which he promptly does. There are three different textbooks open in front of him, and a folder with Cloud’s neatly organised notes lies in the centre of them all. 

Cloud stands beside Zack, one arm on the back of his chair, and points to an unanswered question that he has written in red ink: _what are some of the lesser known effects of prolonged exposure to mako on a receptive human body?_ “This one,” he says. “SOLDIER is so hush-hush that nobody seems to have kept a record of this stuff, or maybe I’m just not looking hard enough.”

“A bit of both, probably,” Zack admits. “But I think even Sephiroth would have trouble getting a hold of SOLDIER files. I mean, we’re confidential in ourselves. But lucky for you, you’ve got your own First Class SOLDIER right here!”

He smiles up at Cloud, who rolls his eyes and shoves him gently. “He should start making himself useful then.”

Zack laughs, a little taken back by the boldness of Cloud’s remark. “Remind me not to accept missions with you when you make First, man,” he says. Zack reads the question another time, considering it for a moment as he tries to remember any changes that he noticed in himself. “My eyes. Everybody recognises ‘mako eyes’, right? But mine didn’t change colour until I’d been getting treatment for a few months, probably closer to a year later, actually.”

“What colour were they before?” Cloud asks.

“Brown. Like, really dark brown,” Zack says.

Cloud smiles, almost to himself more than to Zack. “You should show me a picture sometime, if you have any. What else?”

“Uh, it feels like my senses got better, but that could just be the way mako messes with your head.”

Cloud gives him a quizzical look that quickly turns into one of concern.

“There’s this constant, buzzing noise in the back of your mind. Kind of like a lot of people talking at once,” Zack says. “But you can learn to ignore it pretty quickly. I mean, you have to. Otherwise, it’ll completely take over and you won’t be able to hear anything else. And then there’s the sickness when they reschedule my treatment appointments. It hasn’t happened more than a few times but, man, when it does. I sweat right through my clothes, it hurts to move, and I get the worst nausea.” Zack shudders at the thought of it.

Cloud frowns at him. "I didn’t know SOLDIERs were dependent on mako. Nobody told us that?”

“Because they don’t want you to know. Exposure to mako either drives people crazy or they’re able to withstand it and eventually get hooked on the stuff without realising it. I don’t know, man, they didn’t warn me about it either.” Zack shrugs. “It’s not a totally bad deal, though, it calms me down a lot.”

“You’ve been shaking your leg since you sat down,” Cloud says with a small laugh.

“I said a lot, not completely!” Zack glances down, and sure enough, his leg is bouncing of its own accord; he hadn’t noticed nor paid any heed. He tries to refocus his attention to the task at hand and searches underneath Cloud’s pile of books until he finds a pen. Blue ink, perfect.

“Wait,” Cloud says, watching him, “what are you doing?”

“What does it look like? Answering the question for you, just like you asked,” Zack says.

“Don’t worry, I’ll remember it,” Cloud assures him.

“But I want to write it down for you! And I know you just don’t want my handwriting messing up your notes,” he says.

Cloud pauses, and then whines, “it’s barely legible, Zack.”

“I’ll write slowly and keep it neat, promise!”

“Fine,” Cloud says with a resigned sigh. He steps away from Zack and flops onto the bed behind them. Zack’s eyes follow him as he gets comfortable, setting one arm down across his stomach and the other behind his head. Cloud turns to look at him, and only when he raises his eyebrows does Zack remember what he is supposed to be doing.

He swirls back around into the desk and begins to read the question one more time. He decides that a bullet point list is the easiest option with which to convey his answer. Zack writes slowly, taking extra care with each character. Several minutes later, and the final result is substantially better than he had expected. He leaves a note at the end of his list: _(you got this! good luck - not that you need it!)_.

Zack closes the folder, and asks, “you hungry?”

“A little,” Cloud admits. “Studying takes it out of me. But didn’t you have breakfast before you came over here?”

“Uh, not really. I could still use a bite to eat,” Zack says.

“I don’t know where you put it all,” he says fondly. “You have anywhere in mind?”

“Wherever you want is good. But, uh, Cloud?”

Cloud’s eyebrows slowly knit together, “what?”

“There’s something that I need to get off my chest,” Zack says hastily. “It’s something that I don’t exactly want to tell you, but I think you should know.” As soon as the words escape from his mouth, Zack regrets them. 

Cloud sits up, struck by the sudden and serious turn that their conversation has taken. He speaks carefully and measuredly, the complete antithesis to Zack. “Whatever this is, you can tell me. It’s not like I have many other people to share it with.”

“The thing is, it’s about you,” Zack blurts out.

Cloud’s frown only deepens. “Me?” he repeats blankly.

Zack is shaking. It isn’t just his leg, he’s trembling from his core and it’s causing a ripple effect throughout his entire body. He feels entirely unsteady as he moves, but he manages to get from the chair to the edge of Cloud’s bed without losing his balance. He needs to be close to Cloud for this; there’s no other way to go about it.

Cloud folds his legs and tucks his socked feet underneath himself. He searches Zack’s face for some kind of answer, and the worry that begins to spread across his features is enough to make Zack feel ill. He’s sweating again, and it’s certainly not going to let up this time.

“What’s going on?” Cloud asks quietly. “Is this about my physical exam? Do you know the results? They said it was my last chance, Zack--“

Zack cuts him off before his voice breaks. “No! No, man, no way. You aced that test, you hear me? I know you did.”

Cloud releases a sharp breath, and nods. “Sorry, you’re just acting like you’re trying to break some bad news. What is it?”

Zack shifts closer to Cloud. His boots scuff against the floor below him. “I-- you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, man. I don’t know what I did with my free time before I met you, or what I’d do without you,” Zack says. Cloud’s expression grows more terrified with each passing second. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I really care about you, maybe even a little more than i should.”

“What do you mean?” Cloud asks. His eyes are wide, and Zack wonders if he’s genuinely unsure or if he has jumped to the correct conclusion and wishes to hear it disproved.

Zack’s hands are in his lap, and he begins to fidget with his fingers; he doesn’t know what to say, much less do. “Uh, do you remember when people spread those rumours about us dating?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. They’re not back or anything, I’ve just been thinking about that kind of stuff myself. Being with you kind of stuff,” he says sheepishly. 

Cloud is quiet. His lips part and his mouth opens slightly, but he doesn’t utter a single word until several insufferably long moments have passed by. “How long have you been thinking about it?”

“Not long,” Zack answers. “It’s a recent thing, I promise. You’re my friend, Cloud, and you already know how important you are to me as a friend, or at least I hope you do. I just-- I didn’t have an ulterior motive this whole time, you’re my friend and you always have been, I just want to make sure you know that, more than anything else. The way some people reacted to those rumours, I don’t know, I think it hurt me more than I realised at the time. When they believed it and said that I was taking advantage of you-- I would never do that, Cloud. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t feel like this at all.”

“Don’t say that.” Cloud says, and his tone sounds almost as hurt as Zack feels. “Sure, it’s complicated and inconvenient, and it might even pass, but you shouldn’t feel bad about it.” Awkward and unsure, he takes one of Zack’s hands and holds it with both of his own. “And I didn’t know that people had said those things, but even if I did, you wouldn’t have needed to tell me that.”

Cloud’s hands are warm, and Zack shouldn’t squeeze them back, but he does. His voice is beginning to give way, but he doesn’t notice that it wavers between breaths until after he speaks, “you’re making this really difficult.”

“I could tell you to get out, if it’d help,” Cloud suggests lightly.

“Please don’t,” Zack says, and when he laughs, he can barely keep himself together. 

Cloud is hesitant when he asks his next question: “how long have you known? That you have feelings for me.”

“A little while,” Zack admits. “but I think that some part of me decided to ignore it, so I’m not sure. I had a dream about you, and I realised then. It was a nice dream-- you were just close to me.”

Cloud remains silent. He stares into Zack’s lap and holds his hand tighter. 

“I’m sorry,” Zack says. “I’m really sorry, Cloud. I just wanted you to know, but I guess I shouldn’t have said anything. Hindsight is funny that way.”

“No,” Cloud says softly. “If I were in your position, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you. It was a brave thing to do. I had more than one perfect opportunity, but I never told you, and I never would have.”

Zack shakes his head, “if you’re trying to make me feel better, this isn’t a good way to do it, man.”

“I’m being serious,” Cloud says. 

Zack covers his face with his free hand and continues to shake his head. He isn’t crying, although it feels like a strong and unavoidable possibility. 

Cloud takes him by his wrist and gently pulls his hand away. “Look at me, please.”

“I don’t understand,” Zack mumbles.

“I’m just… trying to say that I know what you’re feeling, but a little differently. I’ve felt like this for longer than you have, and in a quieter way, but I think that they’re still the same feelings between us both.” Cloud’s hand trembles in Zack’s grip, and Zack has no idea what to do except hold it tighter still. He brushes the back of Cloud’s hand with his thumb and is received with a shaky smile. “I also think that you felt they were mutual, even if you didn’t realise it. I can’t see you taking this risk if you didn’t see a chance, however small, that I might like you back.”

“I guess you know me better than I know myself,” Zack says. He nods, and as he does, tears begin to fall from his eyes. He doesn’t know which part upset him, exactly: the stress of it all or the apparently reciprocated feelings, but one thing he knows for certain is that if he allows himself to cry, he won’t be able to stop. 

Cloud reacts immediately, and wipes Zack’s cheeks with a particularly unsteady hand. “Stop that,” he says quietly. “You can’t have puffy eyes when we go out for breakfast, people would invent fake stories about how I upset you and was trying to make things up to you with a nice meal.”

Zack almost laughs. “It wouldn’t be a totally fake story, I mean, you are the one who upset me,” he says.

“Very funny,” Cloud says. His hand lingers against Zack’s cheek.

His palm is exceptionally warm, and Zack revels in the comfort and closeness of his heat for a moment. “You really still want to have breakfast with me?”

“When have I ever cancelled plans with you?” he asks, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Zack swallows dryly. “But you’re-- you’re in like with me?”

Cloud laughs. It’s loud and genuine, and a frustratingly rare sound. “How could I not like you when you have such a way with words?”

"Why didn’t you say anything?” Zack asks, pained by the thought of Cloud keeping it himself like a secret that was never to be shared. A secret that certainly wouldn’t have been shared if Zack had not been the first one to speak his mind.

Cloud purses his lips and thinks about it for a moment. “I don’t have a good answer to that,” he admits. “Because I didn’t want to? I was scared? And terrified at the thought of losing the best the friend I’ve ever had? I don’t know, Zack, I don’t think you realise how out of my league you are--“

“It’s the other way around,” Zack interrupts.

“Well,” Cloud continues. “It was wishful thinking, so instead of taking that risk, I decided to push my feelings down and just get on with things, you know? It wasn’t easy but I didn’t see any other option. Besides, I’m not even your type.”

“I don’t have a type.”

“The only time you ever comment on guys is at the gym.”

“Fine, my type is guys at the gym and Cloud Strife.”

“Shut up,” Cloud says through a shy laugh. He pushes Zack lightly.

Zack falls quiet, and they share a timid glance. 

“Cloud,” Zack speaks slowly, and he hopes that his words sound as sincere aloud as they do in his own mind. Wearing his heart on his sleeve has never before proved to be so difficult a burden. “I’m really glad that you told me that. It would’ve been a lot easier to continue keeping it to yourself, and, I don’t know, it kills me to think of how good you became at hiding your feelings. I don’t want you to ever have to do that again, not with me.”

Cloud doesn’t answer. Instead, he wraps an arm around Zack’s shoulders and pulls him into a hug. Zack buries his face into the crook of Cloud’s neck; he can’t recall the last occasion on which they last hugged, but it feels as though it was an inordinately long time ago. The warmth that radiates from Cloud’s skin is both foreign and an intimate welcome home all at once. Zack had believed that Cloud was behaving in an exceptionally calm manner, given the circumstances, but with the closing of the distance between them, Zack can hear little else but the beat of Cloud’s heart. It’s loud and relentlessly rapid, and would likely register as verging on some kind of panic attack. 

Zack steadies himself with one arm, and keeps the other firmly around Cloud who has him safely secured within both of his own arms. He lifts his head up just enough to rest his chin upon Cloud’s shoulder. “What do we do now?” he muses, more than anything else. 

“What do you want to do?” Cloud asks.

“Good question,” Zack admits with a short laugh. “Right now? I guess I want to do whatever is gonna help you to relax. I bet going out for a bite to eat in the fresh air would do the trick.”

“That might work,” Cloud says, and Zack can hear the beginnings of a smile in his voice.

Reluctantly, Zack loosens his grip and stands up from the bed. “Come on,” he says. “Wherever you want to go, it’s my treat.” He takes Cloud’s hand and tugs him to his feet.

* * *

They end up in a modest restaurant, sharing a generously prepared breakfast meal at lunchtime. For the first time that day, Zack finds that his appetite has been sated. Cloud eats his fill, too, and appears substantially less tense by the time that he sets his chopsticks down.

Most of those in the SOLDIER programme eventually surrender themselves to the omniscient presence of the public eye, however, Zack still tries to avoid the limelight as best as he can. He enjoys the attention, of course, and he never once pictured himself with a devoted following and fan club, but he could use a break from the surprise encounters and flashing cameras every now and then.

Famous by association, Cloud possesses a similar mindset, and together, they’ve refined the ability to scope out venues that offer a shred of privacy. They remain the subjects of occasional inquisitive glances, but nothing overly invasive. 

They stay a while, chatting idly, before Zack bothers to pick up the bill. By the time that they leave the place, Cloud is calm, maybe even more so than Zack himself; he had spent the final few minutes before their departure teasing Zack in his own quiet way. Cloud playfully kicked at his boots and weaved their legs together under the table as a crooked, brazen smile took its rightful place among his features.

The gravity of the confession that he made to Cloud and its slow return have not yet fully resonated with Zack - perhaps not even at all - but when it does hit him, it will be nothing short of a sucker punch. He can’t anticipate when it will happen, exactly, but he sincerely expects to find himself a physically floored, emotionally overwhelmed mess before the week is out. He should just speak to Angeal tonight and forcibly speed the process up, Zack thinks. 

As they peruse the quieter areas of Sector Eight, Zack slips an arm around Cloud’s shoulders. Mid-sentence, Cloud leans into his side, and they carry on as if being comfortable and close with each other is the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is, after all.

A few streets and Cloud’s arm around his waist later, an innocent thought crosses Zack’s mind, and once it does, he can’t seem to think of anything else. He wants to kiss Cloud. Even it’s just a peck on his cheek, it would serve to sate Zack’s brimming curiosity. He wants to kiss Cloud, he wants to experience it in all of its ensuing sensations, and most of all, he wants Cloud to know that he would like to kiss him.

Then, with a question visible on the tip of his tongue, Cloud turns and peers up at him. The afternoon light catches his face, and he ends up fluttering his eyelashes as if he were trying his hand at the art of seduction. To his credit, it’s a fair attempt for an amateur, and a small part of Zack wishes that they were over on Loveless Avenue, just for the poeticism of it all. 

Cloud’s lips move and he speaks, but Zack doesn’t hear a single one of the words that leaves his mouth. He sincerely cannot prevent his thoughts from slipping into the same repeating pattern: one in which he revels in the thoroughly ensnaring and completely encapsulating charm that Cloud radiates from every pore. From his immediate and effortless handsomeness to the warmth of his hand on the small of Zack’s back - in a startling resemblance to Zack’s dream - and the following heat that spreads to the pit of Zack’s stomach and travels throughout his entire body; every inch of his being is a willing victim to Cloud’s unconscious advances. 

Cloud touches his arm, and Zack thinks he might collapse. He’s at ease, and wracked with a devastating dose of nerves all at once. “Zack?” Cloud asks. It sounds as though he might have been repeating himself before he managed to get a response. “You okay? What’s on your mind?”

“I like you, Cloud,” Zack blurts out.

“Didn’t we establish that already?” Cloud grins.

“I just wanted to make sure you know it, that’s all,” Zack says.

“I know it,” Cloud says. “And I won’t be forgetting it anytime soon, either.” 

Zack doesn’t feel quite as terrified as he did a little over an hour ago, and it’s a change that ultimately results in him making an ill-advised, even brash, proposal. “I was wondering-- uh, could I kiss you sometime? I like you a lot - but you already knew that - and I’d like to try it, maybe, just once.” He begins to stumble, and it’s deathly embarrassing, but he can’t seem to stop running his mouth. “I don’t want to pressure you, man, I mean, we don’t have to do any of that stuff if you don’t want to, it’s not like I was expecting it-- because I wasn’t! Hoping, sure, but don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I deserve anything from you just because we both know that we’re into each now--“

“I’m gonna have to stop you there,” Cloud interrupts. He covers his mouth, looks away, and laughs into the palm of his hand.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny, man!” Zack pleads.

“I got that,” Cloud assures him. “You’re overthinking it; a kiss is a kiss, it’s pretty easy once you’re with the right person. Look,” he says, glancing around his immediate surroundings with such a keen eye that one could be mistaken for believing they were on a stealth mission. 

Cloud illustrates his point, then, and his demonstration takes the form of pulling Zack down to meet his lips. Fleeting would be an overstatement: the kiss comes to an end just as abruptly as it had began. He remains close, though, close enough for Zack to realise and in a sense, remember, why his dream had been such a profound source of torment. He never got to see how it ended, to experience either the resolution or the reality of a situation where Cloud was so tantalisingly near.

“Right,” Zack breathes. “Simple.”

Cloud nods; his gaze darts between Zack’s eyes and his lips. As is generally the case when it comes to Cloud, he doesn’t need to be asked twice.

He kisses Cloud, and better still, Cloud kisses him back. Cloud’s response is nothing short of wanting, his arms are quickly secured around Zack’s waist, reeling him as close as he can possibly manage. Zack is overwhelmed to say the least - he doesn’t know what to do with himself, much less his arms, and if it weren’t for Cloud’s support, he wouldn’t possess any real confidence in his ability to remain upright. 

Cloud’s bony hip presses into his thigh - whether in a calculated or hasty move, Zack would likely be better off without an answer - and the immediacy of his touch is almost enough to knock the wind out of him. The only audible sounds within Zack’s immediate vicinity are his own desperately uneven breathing, and the quickening beat of his heart, and he can’t help but wonder if Cloud can hear them too. On some level, he wants him to hear them, to understand the sheer power of the physical effect that he harnesses, in a more honest way than Zack could ever hope to convey to him through words alone.

Their kissing is so urgent, so rushed, that it probably feels as though they’ve been embraced for far longer than is actually the case but even so, common sense seizes Zack with a grip stronger than he wishes it had the capacity to. With all the gentle hesitation in the world, he pushes Cloud back by the shoulder, “we shouldn’t do this here.” He holds Cloud close, and leaves a small kiss on his cheek as a sort of apology. “You know how the fan clubs are with pictures. I don’t want our first kiss to end with you getting hate mail or something,” he says.

Cloud sighs and loosens his arms. 

“I’ll figure something out with them, don’t worry,” Zack says. “Good first kiss, though! Pretty solid ten.”

“You weren’t half bad yourself,” Cloud says, and he can barely suppress a smile. He is quiet and studies Zack somewhat wistfully for a long moment. “Come on, I want to check out the video store. We’re gonna need some background noise when we pick this up this later. I’m not finished here.” He smirks at Zack, then, and with a quick flash of teeth, it’s nothing short of roguish. 

While Zack is preoccupied with his stomach performing fully-fledged somersaults within him, Cloud slips a hand around his own. He guides him until Zack regains some composure at the end of the street, by which time, Cloud is busily engaged in both the tasks of navigating and knitting their fingers together. 

“Hey, take it easy, man,” Zack says. He holds Cloud’s hand tight and pulls him closer to his side in one swift movement. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to rush this.”


End file.
